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into the strait like a gigantic index finger pointing toward the mainland, the

foliage covered heights of which were just visible above the western horizon.

Presently her attention was arrested by a tossing speck far out upon the rolling

bosom of the strait. For some time the girl watched the object until at length it

resolved itself into a boat moving head on toward the island. Later she saw that

it was long and low, propelled by a single sail and many oars, and that it carried

quite a company.

Thinking it but a native trading boat, so many of which ply the southern seas,

Virginia viewed its approach with but idle curiosity. When it had come to within

half a mile of the anchorage of the Ithaca, and was about to enter the mouth of

the harbor Sing Lee's eyes chanced to fall upon it. On the instant the old

Chinaman was electrified into sudden and astounding action.

Klick! Klick!" he cried, running toward Virginia. "Go b'low, klick."

Why should I go below, Sing?" queried the girl, amazed by the demeanor of the

cook.

Klick! Klick!" he urged grasping her by the arm--half leading, half dragging her

toward the companion-way. "Plilates! Mlalay plilates--Dyak plilates."

"Pirates!" gasped Virginia. "Oh Sing, what can we do?"

"You go b'low. Mebbyso Sing flighten 'em. Shoot cannon. Bling help. Maxon

come klick. Bling men. Chase'm 'way," explained the Chinaman. "But plilates

see 'em pletty white girl," he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head

dubiously, "then old Sing no can flighten 'em 'way."

The girl shuddered, and crouching close behind Sing hurried below. A moment

later she heard the boom of the old brass six pounder which for many years had

graced the Ithaca's stern. In the bow Professor Maxon had mounted a modern

machine gun, but this was quite beyond Sing's simple gunnery. The Chinaman

had not taken the time to sight the ancient weapon carefully, but a gleeful smile

lit his wrinkled, yellow face as he saw the splash of the ball where it struck the

water almost at the side of the prahu.

Sing realized that the boat might contain friendly natives, but he had cruised

these waters too many years to take chances. Better kill a hundred friends, he

thought, than be captured by a single pirate.

At the shot the prahu slowed up, and a volley of musketry from her crew satisfied

Sing that he had made no mistake in classifying her. Her fire fell short as did the

ball from the small cannon mounted in her bow.

The Monster Men